


Morning is a Thousand Dreams Away

by estike



Category: COMPANY - Ibuki Yuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estike/pseuds/estike
Summary: It's a late October night and Takano Haruka pretends to leave something behind in the office, just to have a reason to drink a few beers with Aoyagi, who is still doing overtime at the ballet company, all alone.
Relationships: Takano Haruka/Aoyagi Seiichi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Morning is a Thousand Dreams Away

**Author's Note:**

> The October chapter of the book was significantly shorter than any other chapters and ended rather abruptly - and if Ibuki Yuki isn't about to tell us how the rest of that night went, I thought I'd give it a try myself.
> 
> The title is from Cat Empire's song _The Night that Never End_

All the computers that people forgot to switch off in the office before leaving for the night start whirring at the same time, susurrating along with Takano’s melodic laughter. He doesn’t know what Takano is laughing about anymore, but his smile beckons him to join in anyway.

It has been so long that he got tipsy — that he got tipsy without meaning to — that for a moment he feels at least twenty-five years younger. Twenty-five years more naive. Twenty-five years more hopeful. 

Takano’s veneers are sparkling bright white under the office lights, verging on blue. You’d see the very same teeth shining in anyone’s mouth who seriously considers a career in the entertainment industry nowadays. But does it really matter, he wonders. Is that what makes people evaluate his dancing so favourably in this country? Or is it something else entirely that elates us? He probably stares at his smile for too long because it disappears, and Takano tilts his head.

“What?” he asks.

“I was thinking,” Aoyagi tells him after a moment of hesitation.

“Yes. I could see that.” 

Takano closes his eyes and rolls his neck as a small, satisfied smile returns to his face. At least he feels better than a while ago, Aoyagi thinks. 

The clock on the greying office wall is ticking loudly, telling them they are running out of time. This night too, will end. Aoyagi hasn’t eaten dinner and he also knows he will not eat any time soon, either. There is one last unopened can of beer remaining for each one of them. 

Takano opens his and leans over to put it in his hand. 

“Here,” he says. His voice is subtly different from what he is used to when the man is sober. It tickles. “What were you thinking about? Confess.” 

He nips the frame of his glasses between two fingers, slightly pushing it down on his nose — so their eyes would meet without any barriers. Unable to hold his naked gaze, Aoyagi turns his head away and murmurs something incoherent into his beer. 

“Sorry?” 

Takano opens his own beer, too.

“I’ll show you.” 

He shakes his computer’s mouse until the screensaver turns off and flicks the windows back to the short movie he was watching earlier. Aoyagi rewinds the recording back to where Takano was dancing alone, in slow motion and enveloped by the darkness. That is the essence of what he’s been thinking about. 

“Enough!” Takano tells him, with a gentle slap on his upper arm. “You are avoiding the answer by teasing me because you know I can’t bear to watch myself on screen. You’re sly.” 

But he is not angry with him. The few beers they had really did him a great service — the tip of his nose is entirely red. Aoyagi calls him by his name. 

“I was thinking about that, you know. There is something satisfying about it to watch.” 

He still doesn’t know what sets admiration and jealousy apart in a person. Why is it that at times we see someone do something incredible and all we feel is envy? Then, we look at someone else and our hearts are filled with nothing but admiration and yearning? Does it happen when we know that our worlds are too far away from one another? Or does it happen when we love and admire something to the point that jealousy bears no significance? 

“What do you like about it?” Takano asks. He sounds genuinely curious.

“I like how it makes me feel.” 

Takano tilts his head. “And how does it make you feel?” 

Aoyagi tries to deflect it by saying that it is hard to put such things into words, for a layman like him, but he has none of it.

“I’ve read your writing before. If anyone can put it into words, it’s you.” Takano lifts his can. “I’m sure the booze helps too. Do you want some of mine, to top up?”

He gently avoids the hand that offers him more. 

“I… I suppose when I watch you and Minami dance, I feel things I hadn’t known I had the capacity to feel before,” Aoyagi explains. 

Takano makes a small sound.

“I’ll take that.” 

He’s not one to fish for compliments, so Aoyagi wonders… what is it, then? What can his question possibly mean? What is he looking for? 

Takano sniffles. “It may be the greatest compliment, after all, when you find out that you could make someone else feel something. Especially if it’s something they haven’t felt before.” 

They share a smile, then the alcohol turns their smile into pleasant giggling. He has to agree, although he knows deep inside that if that is the greatest form of compliment, he’d never receive one himself. Aoyagi might have left the self-pity behind little by little through the past weeks but this is simply the truth. Undeniable truth. 

He turns his attention back to the Takano on screen before it would be him who gets pulled into a fit of melancholy this time. Yes. He should remind himself of the beautiful things in life instead. Just as he’d take a moment to immerse himself in the short movie — and who knows how many times has he repeated this same scene — Takano reaches before him and stops the video by pressing space.

“If you look at me on the screen like that while I’m in the room, I’ll be embarrassed,” he warns. 

Confused, Aoyagi does not know what to do. 

“You can look at him after I’m gone. We don’t have a lot of time left anyway,” Takano tells him, suggesting that he’d leave Japan after the end of the show this December. “Look at me, while I’m here.” 

So he does. He looks at Takano in a way how he’d only look at him when the man couldn’t see him staring. Like when he’s sprawled out on tatami mats, with his eyes closed and yukata half undone. Like when he’s practising in the studio and there’s a door separating them, and a thick veil of awareness. Protecting him, protecting both of them.

Takano looks back at him, the same way. The exact same way.

He can see his own gaze reflecting in his black eyes, the barriers between them disappearing for a moment, only to appear again. Takano does not smile, although his lips are slightly parted. 

He sees him lying on the tatami mat, stretching in the studio, sending him a look through the heavy glass doors when they are stuck: one in a dream and one in reality. Is it the gaze of a performer only that can stir such strong feelings? Is it something else entirely? 

“What is it?” Takano asks again, in a whisper. 

He can’t explain. (He can show.)

Curling his finger around the black locks at the back of his head, he grabs into Takano’s hair. His expression subtly changes, but he doesn’t react in any other way. For a moment, Aoyagi is simultaneously too drunk and too sober waiting for that one unknown something that would stop him. In the next, he presses a kiss in the corner of Takano’s lips — brave enough, but not too brave. 

When he’d retreat, planning to profusely apologize, Takano grabs him by the suit jacket and pulls him back. He doesn’t remember when was the last time he kissed anyone. It must have been his ex-wife, and if so, it must have been— no, he won’t even want to think about how long ago that was. 

His free hand curls around Takano’s waist, to which he makes an unexpected noise. It sounds more scared than anything else, which snaps him out of it. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, against Takano’s lips. 

“No: I’m sorry. I didn’t expect that.” 

He doesn’t dare to ask, what he expected then. Takano cups his face, with slightly less confidence than what he is used to from him, and brushes a kiss against his lips. He’s lured into more. 

“There are security cameras all over the office,” he warns Takano.

Then, he wonders if that should be his first priority. What is he supposed to be worried about now? Cameras? His ex-wife? Kissing world-famous ballerina Takano Haruka in the first place? 

“Nobody is going to watch them back unless you tell them to.” He stands up and pulls him by the suit jacket like his own personal ragdoll. “But if you worry about that, we can always call a taxi.” 

He’s a moment too late to react, and Takano has already pulled his smartphone up, ordering a ride. Confused, Aoyagi tries to collect the empty beer cans before they’d leave at least, so there’s no evidence of the two of them drinking remaining in the office come tomorrow. (Apart from, you know, the security camera’s footage.) If tomorrow ever comes. He suddenly feels less than tipsy, while Takano is the exact opposite. 

Takano picks up an empty can and helps him take it to the recycle bins at the other end of the office. He pushes his glasses up on his nose. His eyes are shining black as he looks up at Aoyagi, playful and inviting. He doesn’t know, what he’s being invited for. 

No, he knows. Of course. He is just prone to hide behind this veil of ignorance — he’s been doing that for a while, and it’s much too easy to get used to. You don’t have to take the blame. You don’t have to do anything, in fact. Just stand and let life pass by. 

Takano’s fingers curl around his wrist as he pulls him towards the main entrance. 

“I have to lock up,” Aoyagi tells him, pulling him right back. 

“Then hurry up.” 

He flicks the switch off so only the faint emergency lights would remain, then locks the heavy door that leads to the office. At this time of the night, nobody should be in the studio anymore either. Aoyagi gets his coat from the locker outside the room and turns back towards Takano. 

“You don’t have a coat?” 

“Forgot about it when I came back.” 

It is getting too cold at night to just run around without a coat. Aoyagi checks back through the glass door one last time when a black car rolls up near the ballet company’s parking lot. 

Takano does not hesitate to tell his own Sengawa address to the driver then lean back on the seat and close his eyes for a moment. Aoyagi stares at him for a while and in response, he starts laughing, with his eyes still closed.

“What is it?” Aoyagi asks, his voice filled with self-consciousness. 

“Don’t you find it funny? How long have we been stuck in this strange circle? I buy you booze, find a reason to be around you, you ignore my advances—”

Aoyagi tries not to choke on his own spit, which only entertains Takano more. 

“But this is the only way to talk to you,” he says. “You have this polite way of ignoring everything else.”

He looks at the driver in the rearview mirror, trying to figure out whether he is listening or not. It is too late to be listening. Or perhaps it is the peak time of the night when every driver wants to leech onto mundane conversations. Does it matter? He asks himself then. Does it matter, the pieces of information random strangers get from the brief words shared between them? 

Aoyagi looks back at the man sitting next to him. Thinking about it, he always went for the safe option. Takano is right. He knew that he always hid behind the veil of ignorance that destroyed his own family, his own career, his own life. If he ever took a single step by himself and gave up on the role of the bystander — who has no opinion, no weight, no personality — maybe he would be an executive by now. It is indeed true that one cannot fail without acting on anything but he forgot that one cannot succeed that way, either. 

Is he just refusing to take responsibility by pretending that he cannot understand? By preferring to be invisible? 

The beer that was pleasantly tickling him just a few minutes ago now began stabbing him with nasty little needles, using his heart as one would use a pincushion. Aoyagi wants to say something. Something that matters, this time. Something he could stand for. And yet, nothing comes on his tongue. 

He pays the taxi driver when they pull up before Takano’s house and embraces the silence. Takano activates the auto-lock system at the entrance then beckons him with his fingers. The night wind is icy cold against his cheeks. He listens to the sound of Takano exhaling through his nose in the otherwise quiet lift. 

Takano shows him into his apartment and goes straight for his fridge while Aoyagi leaves his coat at the entrance finding some free space on top of the shoe box. 

“I think I’ll need something stronger first. How about you?  _ Nihonshu _ ?” 

Aoyagi nods. “Please.” 

Takano pours a glass for them each, then knocks his own back almost immediately. There is a kind of nervousness about him that Aoyagi hasn’t seen before. He circles his index finger before Aoyagi’s face after he pours another round for himself.

“Don’t think too much about it.”

Aoyagi drinks up and follows him and his bottle to the small living room, after being beckoned. There is a fluffy rug on the floor and some magazines, newspapers, a few bills and business cards scattered around on the coffee table and its vicinity. Takano puts the bottle and his glass on the coffee table and sits down on the floor. He follows suit when beckoned by him. 

Takano lies down on his back, his black hair spread out on the rug and he points to the corners of the ceiling.

“See? No security cameras here. Curtains are drawn.” 

Aoyagi puts his glass on the table. The alcohol is burning his chest. 

“Just so we’re clear that means you can do what you like,” Takano tells him, with his eyes closed. “I mean, as long as I like it too.” 

He leans forward to touch Takano’s hair, curling the locks behind his ear around his finger. His heart is beating much faster than it should. Like a drum.

“I…” he starts. “Sometimes I believe I am only supposed to be admiring things. Watch them only.” 

He’s not good for anything else. 

“You know? The things you admire often appreciate that more than anything else. I appreciate it.” Takano swiftly grabs him by the wrist and pulls him down. He tries to secure himself on the floor by smacking his hand down on the rug, trying to regain balance. “But ironically enough that makes me want you to do more, too.” 

Takano opens his eyes and stares at him, beckoning. In the next moment, he gives in to the wordless invitation and presses a kiss on his lips. Takano responds in kind, peeling the suit jacket off of him with one hand. He helps him, blindly throwing it in the corner of the room. 

He has successfully avoided exchanging drunken kisses during and after work-related functions until now (yes, that includes Etsuko too) and all it took was? What? Takano Haruka?

But perhaps he shouldn’t look at this as work-related after all. He never once considered that his relationship with Etsuko was a concern and they were working at the very same office. Why should he consider that kissing a uh, world-famous ballet dancer, is any different… 

It works. 

He doesn’t think about it for a moment and just does what he feels like doing. Moving down to Takano’s neck he kisses him again, now with more fervour. His neck smells sweet, with a hint of woodsy and floral undertones. That must be his bespoke perfume, Aoyagi thinks. He never quite noticed how intoxicating it smelled before. Or maybe, he ignored it.

They sit up and he pulls Takano closer by the waist, in the same movement that scared him before. He only makes a small sound now, somewhere between surprised and pleased. His fingers pull Takano’s shirt up, working their way under the fabric. Takano tenses up under his touch for a moment. 

“Sorry,” Aoyagi apologizes.

“No, it’s me.” 

He takes a deep breath and, moving away from Aoyagi, starts buttoning his shirt down instead. It’s one of those white, bordered shirts that salarymen wore who tried to distinguish themselves from the other, lesser salarymen who did not happen to care about their appearance. Needless to say, his ex-wife got him these shirts. The last time he went into an Aoki was before he got married and completely forgot about having to take care of himself, buy his own socks, and cook his own meals. 

Thinking about it, any interest he got from Takano, or anyone else, was entirely uncalled for. Takano pulls his shirt down, revealing his shoulders. Something feels different about him. Not entirely hesitant, but lacking the confidence Aoyagi always thought he had. His fingers run down from the tip of Aoyagi’s shoulder down to his wrist, and back again.

He closes his eyes, nuzzling closer to Aoyagi. “I’m not particularly good with this, you know. Can you give me some time? I’m scared, of being touched.” 

Takano takes a deep breath.

“But do touch me.” 

Well, it is very hard to do both at the same time. 

He returns to Takano’s shirt, gently unbuttoning it before pulling it off. Aoyagi didn’t particularly try to be rough earlier but now he treats him as if his skin was made out of glass. Takano closes his eyes and unclenches his jaw although the rest of his body stays rather tense. He wonders for a moment if this is why he felt the need to drink more when they came back to the apartment. 

“I know, I’m barely a real person. I’ve been told before,” Takano comments and there is something strange in his voice, not unlike regret. 

“You seem pretty real to me,” he retorts immediately. “Nuance is real.” 

“Well, that’s not what I was told.” 

Takano exhales loudly through his nose and finally opens his eyes again. 

“I… I really am just fine with admiring you from a distance,” Aoyagi reminds him. “There’s no need to…” 

No need to what? He asks himself. Exert yourself? Do something you are not comfortable with? Tense up your whole body like that just because I’m touching you? 

Takano shakes his head.

“No. I told you, I want to be touched.” He knocks on his own forehead a few times. “But my body needs to get the memo, too.” 

“Has it always been like this?” Aoyagi asks, unsure what to do with the situation.

“Been like this since I remember. But I’ll get over it,” Takano promises. Instead, he presses a hand on Aoyagi’s chest and pushes him down on the floor. “I mind it a lot less when I have to touch others.” 

He presses a kiss on Aoyagi’s neck as his fingers slowly unbuckle his belt, then unbutton the suit trousers. Aoyagi makes a sound that he is not very proud of. He calls Takano by his name, trying to get his attention.

“Hm? Not fine? I’d love to compensate you for all your trouble. And this night is not about to end.”

Aoyagi swallows, then closes his eyes briefly.

“If I can compensate you too…” 


End file.
